Grin and Bear It
by SpectraVondergeist
Summary: Callie's tired of pretending to be okay. But can she fight it during a moment of passion? My take on the jaw-dropping scene from the season 2A promo. Enjoy! (Brallie)


**Note: I'm still working on my current story, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head after seeing the newest promo. Although it's technically Callie/Wyatt smut, I promise it's a Brallie story!**

"This is what I want, and I don't wanna stop."

This was Callie's reply to Wyatt's murmured question: _Are you sure you want to keep going?_

The question had come after they had been frantically rolling around on her bed, a tangle of arms and legs, for the better part of fifteen minutes. They were alone in the house that afternoon, free to explore their raging hormones, and they were prepared to take full advantage of the opportunity.

Wyatt nodded slightly, pursing his red, swollen lips, before bumping them against hers again. As he did so, he slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt, tracing the band of her bra with his fingers.

Callie sighed, pressing her lower body against his, so she could feel his erection, hard underneath his faded jeans. Squeezing her eyes closed, she pulled him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him. And in her mind, she saw that day. She didn't want to think about it, or _him_. But she just couldn't help herself...

Trooper... brave soldier... whatever you wanted to call her, Callie was tired of being just that. She was sick and tired of grinning and bearing the pain; of pretending she never really loved the love of her life, and didn't want him back.

Wyatt maneuvered her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, and she wriggled impatiently, feeling goosebumps rise on her bare torso as he suckled and squeezed her skin. Dutifully, she ran her hands up and down at his muscular back, and dove in for another kiss, her mind far from the horny teenage boy in her bed.

In her head, she saw _him_. Not Wyatt, but the person she really wanted to be with. It hurt too much to even _think_ his name while she was fucking Wyatt, so she didn't. And part of her knew that she was wrong to even dare entertain such thoughts in the first place. But deep down in her heart and mind, _he_ was all around her, pinning her to the floor of Daphne's living room, his dark waves brushing against her neck as he dry-humped her through the barrier of their clothes. _Stop it!_ she scolded herself. _Stop thinking about him!_

Then, she remembered how she'd taken _his_ face between her hands, and kissed him hard and hungrily. And with her eyes still shut, she did just that, and for the first time that afternoon, she felt a little less empty. So, she went in for more.

Grinning and bearing it was Callie's greatest defense. She had long ago been conditioned to put on a brave face and carry on, pretending she was untouchable and didn't care. It was something she'd done her whole life, every time she lost someone she loved, whether it was their fault or her own. It was what she resolved to do that night at the school dance. She told herself she had to, for everyone's sake, and for a moment, she reveled in how stoic and noble she was being, making sacrifices for the family, and all. But then, it hit her how much she had lost. So, she pretended she was okay even harder. But one could only pretend for so long, and all of the soldiering on had made her battle weary. It was hard to feel noble when her heart hurt so badly.

Reluctantly, she let her eyes flutter open, and realized that she was naked. Life had gone on while she was lost in her bittersweet fantasy; Wyatt had manged to undress her, and was now fumbling with the fly oh his pants.

"Let me, baby," she murmured, hastily yanking the zipper down. Wyatt wriggled out of his pants and boxers, his erection tangling in the fabric. Once his clothes were shed, he rolled on top of her and continued kissing her.

She had told herself that the best way to get over _him_ was to get _under_ someone else; Wyatt. That was why she had allowed herself to get into her current situation. But when her eyes met Wyatt's, steely blue-grey under heavy lids, she closed her eyes and they became green as moss, dark with desire and warm with love.

_"Oh!"_ she gasped, her breath hitching in her throat, as a gush of wetness pooled between her legs. It was a cliche, but she wondered how something so wrong could feel so right. _My mind is the only things that_ _really belongs to me_, she realized. _I'm free in here. My thoughts are mine_. That meant no one could tell her what to think, or who to love, if it stayed in the confines of her imagination. So, she decided to go with it. To live, for once. She wasn't hurting anybody.

And then, once again, Wyatt became _him_. It was _him_ who had just grazed her nipple with his teeth, who was probing her soaked folds with his fingers. She wanted to give _him_ all that he was giving her, and she did, ghosting each and every caress. _"Uuggh!" _she cried, as her hand flew to the tender spot on her breast where _he_ had given her a hickey.

"Oh Callie," Wyatt slurred in _his_ voice.

Blind with pleasure, Callie arched her back and grabbed handfuls of the dishwater blond hair that was really so dark it was almost black. She leaned down, and kissed _his_ shoulder, tasting the salty sweat on his flushed skin, then licked her lips. She could live on his scent, his taste alone. If she could, she'd bottle it.

As her hands began to venture lower, Wyatt's body when rigid and his cock twitched. "I need you now," he announced in a ragged voice, his chest heaving.

Callie took the condom from the nightstand, and tore it open. "I want you inside me," she whispered. She rolled it over him, then closed her eyes so tightly she saw spots, as he hovered between her spread-apart legs. And she held her breath as the brief, dull ache filled her core, then quickly subsided. And she met Wyatt with her hips as _he_ rocked against her.

"Faster," she whimpered as he moved inside her. She couldn't open her eyes. She refused to. If she did, _he_ would fade away, his gorgeous dark waves turning long and tawny, and his clear green eyes becoming pale and colorless. His face would loose it's boyish softness and crooked smile.

"Omigod" she muttered, bucking to deepen the friction between them. She slipped her hand between their sweaty bodies, and rolled her tight clit under her thumb, producing some unintelligible string of profanities. Among them, _his_ name was on the tip of her tongue, dangerously close to escaping her lips.

"Shit," she heard Wyatt breath as he sped up his rhythm. "You're so frickin' tight, Cal."

Her ears buzzed as she tuned out Wyatt's curses. It became white noise to her. All she heard was _him_, whispering gentle, romantic words to her as they made love.

And then it happened; everything at once. Her muscles clenched around _him_, and the world behind her eyelids went white. "Ooh!" she gasped. "Mmmn"

She gripped _his_ shoulders, and wrapped her thighs around him like a vice as she prepared to let herself find release.

"Callie," _he_ groaned, his voice dripping with sex.

She repaid _him_ with a tortured moan, then another, as he thrust into her one last time, and her hips bounced against the mattress. She squealed as her body convulsed. Her limbs felt gelatinous, and her tongue thick. She couldn't fight it anymore. Only one word, or, _name_, remained a part of her vocabulary.

"Ohhh," she breathed, digging her nails into _his_ back and curling her toes. "Oh god, yes! _B... Brandon!"_

And then it was over. Wyatt climbed off of her, his face unreadable, and rolled over, facing the wall. Callie followed his lead, and turned the other way, wrapped loosely in her sheet. She stared blankly into space as her cheeks burned with embarrassment and lonely tears filled her eyes, which she quickly wiped away before Wyatt could see. She knew they both knew they'd never mention what happened again. But if he did, and he wanted an explanation, she would simply grin and bear it; shrug it off and pretend not to care. It was what she was good at, right?

**The End**


End file.
